If I Didn't Care
by elflinglegolas
Summary: A take on the first encounter of Michael and Delysia. There was something about her that caught his attention, something else other than her obvious beauty.


**_So people aren't exactly knocking down the doors for Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day fanfics, but I thought I would be stupid anyway and post this. Maybe someone who loves the movie just as much as I do (still) will come wandering in here and decide to read this. If nobody ever does...well, I had fun writing this. _**

**_After watching the movie for the fourth time, I started to wonder what Delysia and Michael's first meeting was like. I haven't read the book so I can only imagine if there is anything on this topic in there. I do know his character is really different, and I honestly prefer the movieverse Michael over book Michael. So, this is my movieverse take on their first encounter. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

He still remembered what his father said the day he left the university.

"_You're a fool, Michael! A damned fool! You want to play piano for the rest of you life? Well I hope you enjoy living in the gutter my boy because that's the fate you've set for yourself! After everything your mother and I did to get you into school? I'll say it again because it's true, you're a damned fool!" _

Sometimes, more often not as of late, Michael wished he had taken his father's words seriously. But he had been young and stupid and full of grand ideas that the world was as his disposal and life would be some sort of fun game. It had turned out _he _was the game and life was playing _him_. Hard. Very hard.

Out everything he could have been, why did he want to be a pianist? Finding a job was impossible. There weren't many places in London that wanted a pianist. What with the depression and all, people didn't have money for food and clothes let alone live music. The few clubs and dance halls that survived already had an established pianist. Nobody wanted a nobody. So he took any job he could find. He played for pubs, restaurants, parties, businesses, once even for a school play when the resident music teacher was ill and couldn't make the talent show.

After a few years he realized he _had _been a damned fool. His father was too dead to relish in his realization and thankfully his mother hadn't been alive to even see the foolishness began. His father's death brought him no large amount of money, for the Pardue's had never ever had much of anything. It seemed they were to continue that trend as long as the world kept turning, for once again Michael Pardue found himself scouring the newspaper in Victoria Station, hoping and praying for _something_.

"Who needs a goddamned pianist?" He muttered, angrily flipping to the next page. "Who even _wants _one?"

_**Nick Caldarelli's The Scarlet Peacock! Musicians Needed!**_

Michael blinked. Was he seeing this right?

_**Now hiring talented musicians! We're looking for anyone and everyone from the trombones to the piano, we've got positions to fill if you can play!**_

"_Damn_!" Michael said, his eyes widening. The ad was so big it filled up an entire page. He'd never heard of the club, but it looked fancy.

He glanced up, his eyes falling on the ticket desk on the other side of the room. The blond was working today, the one who always eyed him when he came to the station. He needed a phone to call this place and the booths were out of order. She would be willing to give up hers, he was sure.

"Excuse me," He said, leaning up against the desk with a smile.

She jumped and looked up, her brown eyes growing large. "May I help you sir?"

"I believe I'm in a bit of a mess. I've got to make a phone call and your booths are out of order. Would it be possible to borrow yours?"

She just stared and scooted the phone closer. His smile grew even wider. "Thank you." He winked. She had to turn around to compose herself.

Michael dialed the number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this the Scarlet Peacock?" He asked, praying he didn't sound like an utter fool.

"Yes this is. Maybe I ask who this is and why you are calling?"

"My name is Michael Pardue and I'm calling about your ad in the paper..."

The conversation didn't last very long. The man on the other end seemed bored but an audition was scheduled for one o'clock which was but an hour away. He would have to run to get there, the place was practically on the other side of London. There wasn't time to change or freshen up or search the floors of Victoria Station for enough shillings to get him there by taxi.

So Michael started running.

* * *

He was in over his head.

Damn it all! He had always thought he had wanted to play in a place like this, a club for London's elite where only cocktails were served and the cigarette smoke was so thick there was a permanent fog in the room. But as he sat there, his fingers poised to strike the keys that were the only familiar thing to him in this place, he wondered if this was too much too fast.

"Play when you're ready." Nick said. He was leaning up against one of the pillars looking like he'd been through this a thousand times and didn't really care at this point who he hired.

Michael nodded and his fingers grazed the ivory. He played the first song he could think of. Suddenly, Cole Porter's _Anything Goes _drifted through the Scarlet Peacock, filling the club with warmth. It was smooth, fluid, like butter. Chills went down Michael's spine, not because of his playing (which was superb if he did say so himself) but because of the music. It was what he lived for, what made all his foolishness worth wild.

He glanced up at Nick and saw his snake-like eyes slitted, watching him with what Michael thought was surprise and just a bit of interest. His fingers flew a bit faster and just before the song finished, he drifted into another melody. _If I Didn't Care_ sang softly from his fingers, soothing the air that had been electrified from the previous song. Nick was very interested now. He had pushed himself off the pillar and went to stand over and watch Michael's fingers dance across the keys.

"Oh Nick, what _is _that delightful sound?"

Michael faltered and the song stopped. He looked up. There was woman coming down the stairs. She was small, petite, her fiery curls bouncing with each exaggerated step she took. She giggled as she latched onto Nicks side, her small hands curling around his arms. Her clear blue eyes drifted from the club owner to Michael who was still staring. Her smile faltered a bit and she made a little noise like she was in distress.

"Who's this, Nick?" She asked, tearing her gaze from Michael to look at what he guess to be her boyfriend. He didn't see a ring.

"He goes by Michael Pardue. He's going to be our new pianist."

Michael stared. "Really? I'm hired?"

Nick nodded. "You're the best damn pianist I've heard all week. Every idiot that's come in here has done nothing but bang on the keys."

Michael gave a breathless laugh and started to stand, but stopped when the woman unhooked herself from Nick and came a bit closer. "Wait, we need to make sure he can play with _me_."

He hesitated, "I can do accompaniment."

"Well maybe you can, but we've got to see if we're a good fit!" She giggled, leaning against side of the piano. With a nod from Nick, Michael sat back down and stretched out his fingers.

"Alright then, what should I play ma'am?"

She let out another one of those ridiculous giggles and swatted at the air. "Don't call me that. Call me Delysia."

"Delysia," He mused, thinking how sweet it tasted in his mouth. "Alright Delysia. What should I play?"

She tapped her small lips with a finger then grinned. "Why not that song you were playing before? I know it."

He smiled and nodded and moved into the song. Michael's eyes left the keys to stare at her. She was smiling, her eyes closed and face relaxing. He found himself fascinated with her, fascinated with the way sugar coated woman who'd walked in moments before just fell away. She opened her eyes and Michael realized this was an entirely new person.

"_If I didn't care...more than words can say..._" She sang. Her voice was high, magical. Michael found himself leaning towards her, his eyes locked on hers.

"_If I didn't care would I feel this way?_"

Was she just singing or were these words meant for him? Michael wasn't sure, all he knew was that this woman in front of him was...well he wasn't quite sure about that either, but something in him stirred that he had never felt.

"_If this isn't love then why do I thrill?_" She gave a broken smile, one that sent his heart racing even more than it already was.

"_And what makes my head go 'round and 'round while my heart stands still?_" She sang with her soul just like he played with his. He could feel every word. Could she feel every note?

"_If I didn't care would it be the same?_" Michael couldn't help himself, he knew the words, and her eyes were begging him, just begging him to answer her call. She seemed surprised that he had sung the words back, but it was a good surprise. Delysia smiled at him, a real smile too, not the sugar coated one she had flashed Nick earlier.

"_Would my ev'ry begin and end with just your name?_" The music began to rise, the softness of the song departing and leaving behind a trail of passion.

"_And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?_" They sang it together, but there was no surprise that they had. It felt natural to add his voice to hers and apparently she thought the same.

"_Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?_"

Michael let the song fade out, his eyes still glued on Delysia. She was focused on him too and a single tear rolled down her porcelain face. He reached out without thinking and wiped it away. She gave a little laugh and sniffed.

"That was beautiful, Michael."

"Thank you," He said "I haven't heard a voice that gorgeous in years."

Her smile grew. "Why, Michael," She blushed. "What a wonderful thing to say. Thank you."

It was a genuine thanks, something Michael didn't think she gave out often.

"Why don't we play another song?" She asked suddenly.

He glanced around the room. Nick was nowhere in sight. He hadn't seen him leave and it appeared he wouldn't be back anytime soon. What would another song hurt? "Alright,"

"Know anything Billie Holiday? I have to say, I've taken a great liking to her lately." Delysia said. She came around the piano and motioned for him to move over. He did so without hesitation, and suddenly this woman was sitting at his side, her arm brushing his sending a thrill through him. God, was she gorgeous. Her face, her body...it was perfection.

"I know a few." He finally said, keeping his eyes glued on the keys. His fingers played _Summertime _and out of the corner of his eye he saw her transform again into a goddess that didn't fit in the sheer peach dress she wore or the diamonds around her neck. She was something grander than those things

"_Summertime and the livin' is easy..._"

The more the sang, the sweeter her voice got, and the more his eyes left the keys and focused on her. She stared back at him, the words she was singing seeming to be for him and him only. Sometimes he would sing back if he knew the song, for after _Summertime _was over, she had him keep playing. Michael wasn't even sure how many songs he had played since _Anything Goes_ but that was okay. Delysia kept leaning in closer and closer and her arm would brush his often. It got to the point where she just altogether stopped singing and his fingers were slowly playing some version of _My Own_ that was fading by the minute.

Finally he fingers faltered and fell into his lip. His eyes studied her face, her lips, her nose, the faint freckles under her eyes that could only come from days in the sun. There was something more about her under the blush and pink lipstick, something he couldn't put his finger on but something that he liked.

"Do you think we're a good match?" She asked suddenly.

"In my opinion, there isn't a better match in London." He said softly.

She gave a little gasp, her eyes falling on his lips. Delysia leaned in a bit closer so that their faces were only centimeters apart. He thought about doing it, bridging the gap and kissing this girl he'd just met. Honestly, he felt like he'd known her all her life. He wondered if she felt the same, or maybe he was just imagining the buzzing air around him.

"Who taught you how to play like that, Michael?"

"I taught myself." This time he moved a bit closer. She shuttered and reached out to place a hand on his chest. Her fingers closed around shirt and held him there, fixed on the spot. Michael couldn't move. Delysia couldn't move either. _What was this?_

"Delysia!"

It was like someone had both shocked them with a live wire. They sprung apart, Michael sliding to the far side of the piano bench and Delysia jumping up and leaning against the side of the piano with one hand on her hip.

"Someone was on the line for me I had to-" Nick stopped at the base of the dias, his eyes moving from Delysia to Michael. "Why are you still here?" He asked.

"Uh-"

"I made him stay. I wanted to hear a few more songs. Oh Nick, he's got a great voice. Maybe he could sing with me sometime. I think it'd attract more people to the club. What do you say, darling?" She gushed, attaching herself to his side again.

Michael just stared. Nick was studying Delysia, his jaw working. Never did her smile falter despite his blank expression. She clung a little tighter to his arm and leaned into him. Michael found he didn't like this. Was he actually _jealous_? Lord, he'd only just met the woman! He unwillingly ripped his gaze from her and looked at Nick. The club owner didn't look happy and when he spoke, his pleasantness was obviously forced.

"We'll see what we can do." He said finally.

Michael swallowed hard. "I'm fine with just being a pianist, honestly. That's what I'm good at. I'm no singer."

"Oh fiddlesticks!" Delysia cried. "You sound like you belong in Hollywood!"

"Your words are too kind." He smiled, standing to his full height and keeping his gaze away from Delysia and her mesmerizing eyes. He stuck out a hand for Nick and the club owner took it. "Thank you again."

"No need to thank me. The club is open on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Be here by five ready to play."

It was less days than he wanted, he would have to pick up extra jobs if he wanted enough money to pay the rent, but it was better than his previous situation. He smiled and nodded and picked up his coat off one of the back of the chairs.

"Thursday it is then. It's been a pleasure meeting you. Nick, Delysia." He dipped his head, his eyes lingering on the singer a bit longer than they should have. She stared back, the sweet face she'd put on for Nick faltering and a shy smile appearing that was one of a kind and only meant for him.

Before he was trapped in her blue eyes again, Michael swung his coat over his shoulder and walked up the stairs and out the door of the club. Thursday couldn't arrive any sooner.

* * *

_**I'm keeping this as incomplete in case I decide to make this more than just a one-shot. If I do decide to keep going, I'll post more, that is if anyone actually see this.**_


End file.
